Liv-

Your right, we're not friends. it's not frendly to write someone in a clear low point about how much you think they suck. You say you don't miss me, but bought a stamp, got my adress, walked to a mailbox and dropped in this novel about rooftops at 2am and a sketch i drew you years ago for what perpose, then? I'm 'infeltrating' your life? Uh I'm literaly locked up- i hope you see the irony in you reaching out to me and saying this.

Please be honest with yourself, Olivia- you did not love me. you were in love with the image of hanging out with someone who's into the shit I'm into and lives the way i live without having to sacrefice any of your creachure comforts because you know I grew up the same. Anyway, your right, I'm still in here- i'm the same dude who wanted to do all those sweet things you mentioned because surprise! i loved you! very much! i'm sorry that the realty of being with me was a lot less cool than the idea of it!

Real talk: I'd argue this is some of the realest shit I've ever been through, and the nerve it takes to suggest while i'm in here that I don't feel anything is low, even for you. I don't need you cycling through a rollodex of pointless memories just to slap me on the wrist for not meeting the endless expectations you placed on our relationship even years after the fact. I'll admit that I think it's cute that you're attempting to manipulate me into feeling sorry for you for- what, your success? when I'm literaly just sitting here, because, as I thought would be obvious from the adress you mailed this to:

i am incarcerated.

I appreciate it anyway because thinking about how to write you back amused me for most of the afternoon.

For what it's worth, the charity fashion show and magazine thing sounds good for you; i'm glad your working on your collection. i always said you were talented.

-OWEN

PS The sketch wasn't bad you kept it for two years